


The Sweetest Taste

by JustAWritingAmateur



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 16:38:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3536519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAWritingAmateur/pseuds/JustAWritingAmateur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He had only been a trick of light in the end. An illusion. Leaving behind nothing in his gentle, determined wake." After Atem returns to the Spirit World, Seto Kaiba is left pondering what it all meant. Seto-centric. One-sided Prideshipping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweetest Taste

He doesn't really know how to react at first. Something within him shifts--has shifted. For good. That is the only thing that is for certain. 

That and a strange hollowness. Thorough. Like everything that was inside him has been scraped away, layer by layer. Pride. Hatred. Resolve. Loathing. Fear. 

Rendered shell-like. Suddenly delicate. The ground shifting beneath him, threatening to unmake him. 

The air threatening to crumple him. 

\--

It must have been his eyesight going. Making him see things that weren't there. 

Yes. 

That's all it could have been. 

That's all it must have been. 

The sight of the pointy-haired man--the other Yugi--walking into that bright haze of light--

Disappearing from this world. Returning to where he belonged. In the past. 

In their pasts. All of them. 

In Seto's own past. 

He had only been a trick of light in the end. An illusion. Leaving behind nothing in his gentle, determined wake. 

No.

Seto Kaiba cannot make himself believe that. Despite everything. 

Cannot believe that it had ultimately meant nothing.

But he must keep up appearances. Once the deed is done, he crosses his arms and scoffs for their benefit. Mutters something about "trickery" and false "sorcery". 

Tries to hide that his arms must somehow hold himself together. 

Because this feels wrong. 

All of it. Just--

Mokuba tugs at his sleeve, and they leave together, Yugi and his friends staring at him confusedly. 

\--

If any of them had figured it out--

He supposes it would have been Yugi himself. Little Yugi Moto with the violet eyes. Yugi Moto who saw things. Often more than he would ever let on. 

After all, they shared a mind--a body--a home for their souls or somesuch thing. 

If Yugi had noticed, he had said nothing to the other Yugi--to Atem. 

The other Yugi's true name tastes sour on his tongue. Like already leaving. Separating. Like smoke drifting from his own mouth. Vanishing on the wind. 

As if it had never curled around his tongue that way. 

"Atem-"

In his thoughts, though, the smaller man is always the other Yugi. 

And there are many such thoughts. 

\--

He never so much as touched him that way. Would never have. It would have been too cruel. To allow himself that. 

Besides, it's not as if the other Yugi had said anything or demonstrated anything to indicate--

Nothing but friendship. 

That filthy word. 

The things they parroted to him. As if it mattered. 

The way the other Yugi spoke to him sometimes. That deep voice. Full of grave importance. Dignity. 

Saying disgusting, sentimental things to him. Often nonsense as well. 

Cheering him on from the sidelines. That small nod of contentment when he considered their eventual rematch. A meeting between them. 

Those always electrified Seto in more ways than one. 

\--

Yet. 

Yet--

That wild crimson spark in his eyes. When they were matched up against one another, on opposite sides of the playing field. A liveliness that Seto never noticed in the other Yugi's eyes in any other situation. 

\--and Seto noticed everything--

Something only Seto could give the other Yugi, as his one true rival--

A challenge. 

Excitement. A thrill. 

But not in that way. 

Never in that way. 

\--

He idly wonders what he’s supposed to do now.

Now that the other Yugi is gone.

He never would have thought always winning would feel like so little.

\--

It is never a dream. 

It is not a vision. 

It is not a memory. 

The way he can feel it-- the smaller man's lips brushing against his own-- is a sign of him slowly losing his mind. 

That's all it is. 

\--

It isn't love. 

It never was. 

He steps on the thought, crushing it like an autumn leaf beneath his boot: 

\--but it could have been--


End file.
